People Like Us
by thelastenemy
Summary: As the students of Hogwarts confront increasing unrest beyond the castle walls and festering prejudices within, they must set aside old differences and forge new alliances. Now in their Sixth Year, James, Lily, and their friends struggle to find light amidst the encroaching darkness.
1. Shepherd's Pie

Roger M. Barnaby, of Number 72 Carlton Avenue, felt he could say rather objectively that he was a tolerant, patient man. Fair, too. Almost unreasonably so, and how he suffered because of it! Oh, certainly he'd had his moments -when the pimple-faced shop clerk had informed him that his coupons had expired, for instance, or when that bumbling waitress had given him a salad with _onions_ -but by and large, Mr. Barnaby knew himself to be a truly superior individual, well above petty grievances and grudges.

Which was why on this particular day, a muggy August afternoon of the sort that made his joints ache like no other, he decided that enough, was enough! The piercing shrieks of the teenage girls next door had yet again woken him from a well-deserved nap, and no matter how much he enjoyed their mother's treacle tart (Mr. Barnaby could only imagine how the poor woman lived with such heathens), the way they'd been yelling since the start of summer was downright unacceptable. He supposed some of it had to be the parents' fault -lack of discipline, surely -and as an older member of the community, it was his duty to offer some words of wisdom (along with a few choice threats).

He never would have thought it, mused Mr. Barnaby regretfully, that he'd be issuing warnings about calling the police in this rare, idyllic patch of Cokeworth suburb. Moving out of the industrial city center after retirement just this April, he'd hoped to finally get some peace and quiet. Yet here he was, at this age and slowly navigating the steps of his neighbors' front porch with his cane! For shame, he thought, shaking his head as he raised his wrinkled knuckles to rap sharply on the door.

To Mr. Barnaby's dismay, the yelling continued from behind the door, and in fact increased in volume as he heard footsteps thundering closer. To his greater shock and displeasure, the door suddenly swung open to reveal not the pleasant, smiling, face of Mrs. Claire Evans, but rather a scowling red-headed girl who looked to be about sixteen and who was evidently still in the middle of a heated argument with her sister upstairs.

"I'm answering the door, you twit, so shut your stupid mouth before I shut it for you -" Suddenly seeming to realize she'd already opened the aforementioned door, the girl turned to face Mr. Barnaby, the angry pink patches on her cheeks reddening further with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, sir, how can I help you?" She smiled good-naturedly at him, and her deep green eyes looked quite apologetic.

She was the image of contrition, but Mr. Barnaby wasn't buying any of it for an instant. He'd never met the younger Evans girl, but he had her number!

Mr. and Mrs. Evans, he knew to be pleasant people. He hadn't quite taken to their older daughter, Petunia, who was always rather stiff and reticent when delivering her mother's treats to his door, but he generally approved of her. She was a sensible girl, enrolled in a typing course in London. Rather plain and without much of her mother's beauty, Mr. Barnaby secretly thought to himself that she could do with some practical skills.

This younger one, though -what was her name again? Started with an "L", he thought, Lavender, Lilac -no, _Lily_, she was gone all year at some boarding school in _Scotland_, of all places. Mr. and Mrs. Evans always referred to their younger daughter glowingly as a "real firecracker" and a "bright, talented girl" who thrived at school and loved her classes. If you asked Mr. Barnaby for _his_ opinion, it was that young ladies from working-class families had no business going off to posh private schools far away from home. It was all well and good for Petunia, already grown and graduated from the local secondary school, to take the train to London on weekdays to try to improve herself, but for Lily to have been attending this school of hers since eleven was rather ridiculous. And besides that, where were the Evanses even getting the money for this sort of thing? They'd smiled and mentioned a scholarship when Mr. Barnaby asked, but he 'd fought in the war! He could _read_ people -Roger M. Barnaby knew better than to be fooled by a few polite smiles! All this fuss about Lily's talent and smarts, sending her to a faraway school they could not imaginably afford, and giving him nothing but vague answers when he asked about precisely where the school was, what it was called, or even discussing what it was their daughter was even learning -Mr. Barnaby had put together the truth long before Lily Evans had come home from school and started stirring up trouble in her loud, obnoxious arguments with her sister.

Lily Evans was undoubtedly a rebellious delinquent of some sort, who spent her time at faraway reform schools for _special_ cases.

The girl was good-looking enough, thought Mr. Barnaby grudgingly as he scrutinized her earnest face. No telling where that red hair came from, but she evidently took after her pretty mother and had no trace of Petunia Evans' pinched, constantly judging, look about her.

Well. Altogether a shame, then, striking girl like that throwing her life away. And to think she came from such good people, too!

"Um, excuse me, sir? Can I help you?" Lily's voice cut through Mr. Barnaby's reverie. She was looking at him a bit oddly, not without apprehension. He'd been staring at her, and muttering under his breath.

Delinquent or not, Mr. Barnaby thought it his duty as a gentleman to show his cultivation of good manners. "I am Mr. Roger M. Barnaby. I live -"

"Oh, I know! You're the new neighbor!" Lily exclaimed, cutting him off to his extreme annoyance. "Mum's told me all about you. How lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Barnaby." She extended an exuberant hand. He shook it, hesitantly, but Lily didn't seem to notice his reluctance as she continued, "I'm Lily. Terribly sorry I haven't been over to visit yet, to be perfectly honest I try to spend as much time with Mum and Dad over the summers as possible, seeing as I don't see them when I'm at school." Mr. Barnaby murmured that it was completely understandable, despite his skepticism that delinquents cared much about spending time with family. Quite frankly he didn't know what he would do if this girl showed up on his front step; he wasn't sure he'd be comfortable letting her into the house.

Sensing at last an opportunity, Mr. Barnaby began again, "I came here to -"

"Oh, where are my manners?" _Indeed_. "Come inside! Mum made shepherd's pie, I'm sure she'd want you to have some." Mr. Barnaby opened his mouth to politely refuse, but her skirt was already whipping around the corner. There was little choice but to follow.

After inviting him to take a seat at their table, Lily promptly bustled into the kitchen, presumably to fetch the shepherd's pie. Mr. Barnaby leaned his cane against another chair and shifted uncomfortably. Irritated as he was, he didn't see how he could possibly bring up his complaint now that the girl was feeding him. As she whistled merrily in the kitchen, it occurred to Mr. Barnaby that perhaps Lily had seen his intentions and attempted to head him off from the beginning. Call it paranoia from war, but stranger things had happened. This idea aggravated him even further, and he resolved himself at last to tell her off -pie or no pie.

Lily returned, gently setting down a plate with a general helping of steaming shepherd's pie. "You're in luck, Mr. Barnaby -Mum only makes shepherd's pie on special occasions, you know." Against his better judgment, Mr. Barnaby asked what the occasion was.

"Oh, well Petunia actually officially completed her typing course today. We're going into London with her next weekend for the certificate ceremony, but Mum wanted to surprise her with a celebratory dinner tonight," at this, she grimaced. Mr. Barnaby dropped his fork.

"Why, then surely you shouldn't be serving this to me, if your mother meant it for tonight!" The girl was so thoughtless! Nevertheless, Mr. Barnaby decided he might as well finish his portion seeing as it was already in front of him.

Lily sighed. "Well, no, because the dinner's not happening anymore. Petunia's friends called, and they're going to a party tonight. She's getting ready right now."

"I see," Mr. Barnaby said, slowly taking another bite.

"It's a downright shame, because Mum spent a good deal of time on the preparations for tonight, making all of Petunia's favorite dishes, and now she won't even be here. I tried to convince her to stay, but, well -her friends…" Lily trailed off as she stood up. "I'm dreadfully sorry, you shouldn't have to hear about our silly little arguments -Mr. Barnaby, my father tells me you fought in the war and that you have some positively brilliant stories! I would love to hear them," she said with a genuine smile.

The more time he spent with Lily Evans, the more Mr. Barnaby found himself itching to leave. He told himself that this was because she grated on his nerves in the way unruly youth always did, not because when she tossed her dark red hair and blinked her deep green eyes, Lily Evans reminded him of a girl he'd known as a young man. And most definitely not because after spending just minutes with this strange, passionate girl, Mr. Barnaby began to suspect he rather liked her.

What it was about the girl, Mr. Barnaby couldn't say for sure, as he let her escort him back to his front step in a daze and without mention of his original complaint, but one thing he knew with complete certainty -Lily Evans was trouble.

* * *

Dear Reader,

I can't tell you how incredibly excited I am that this story is finally being published. Admittedly, it was well within my control and I've been fantasizing about it for months, but unfortunately, it has taken finals week to kick me into gear. I know this is the start to a very long and very bumpy ride, and I can hardly wait now I've begun.

I'm trying to stick as closely to canon as possible, so I would appreciate it if you could report to me any inconsistencies/errors that you find. In that same vein, I'm currently on the hunt for a lovely, patient beta who can find all my typos and plot holes.

You can expect Chapter Two tomorrow, if all goes well.

Yours,  
Evangeline


	2. The Summer of My Life

Lily receives an interesting letter from an unexpected source.

* * *

Lily returned from 72 Carlton Avenue to find Petunia already standing primly in the front hall, checking her makeup in a mirror for the last time and tugging down her blinding, sequined dress where it had ridden up over her bony thighs. She flinched ever-so-slightly she spotted Lily, as if she expected her to start up again, but appeared relieved when her sister instead trudged wordlessly up to her room.

Lily flopped unceremoniously onto her bed, waiting patiently for the obnoxious girlish shrieks that seemed always to accompany the arrival of Petunia's friends. She wasn't disappointed as a particularly shrill giggle pierced her ears. An engine revved on the driveway, and she was plunged back into silence.

There was a time when Lily had relished the serene peace that generally accompanied her sister's departure, but this summer she found herself unsettled by the quiet, which often led to thinking about things she'd much rather forget.

To begin with, there was the unsavory end to her Fifth Year, which all in all had not been one of her favorites.

Mary had gotten cursed by Mulciber in late November, and the MacDonalds almost pulled her out of Hogwarts because of it. Worst of all, Mary was in no way close to being the only target. Over the course of the past term, several Muggleborns had been attacked out of the blue in corridors. Lily would have counted herself lucky for having escaped the same treatment, had she not been all too aware that luck had nothing to do with it.

No matter. Se -he -was irrelevant now, and his opinion of Lily, in particular. Which meant that no matter how difficult it remained for her to say his name or even think about him, she had to try to forget. And realize that next year, she would be vulnerable to the same attacks Mary and the others and so unjustly suffered.

Not that they'd been entirely unprotected, of course. Even with tensions now at the highest they'd been since her arrival at Hogwarts, Lily still felt safer within the formidable stone fortress that was her school than she did anywhere else. Perhaps because of Dumbledore's presence, perhaps because of the doubled Prefect patrol schedule and the Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade, or perhaps even because of the brave and earnest, albeit impulsive and misguided, actions of Potter and his friends.

As it was, she had little to look forward to for the majority of the summer. Marlene was in Spain with her parents, and Mary was all the way in Bath. Dorcas had come down with scrofungulus, and though visiting her in St. Mungo's would not have been terribly inconvenient, apparently she was so contagious the Healers wouldn't be letting anyone in her ward. If it had been any other year, Lily wouldn't mind this so much, but now that she was no longer on speaking terms with the one person she'd spent every holiday with, it seemed the next month of summer would be quite dull indeed.

On the bright side, not being able to see any of her friends was giving Lily plenty of time to catch up with her parents, whom she'd sorely missed while at school. She'd been so stressed between O.W.L.s and her new Prefect duties that hadn't been able to return at Easter. It was nice to spend a few lazy afternoons just drinking lemonade and listening to records with her father, even if she suspect she'd have more than had her fill of ABBA by summer's end. She'd also missed her mum's cooking terribly, and was ecstatic to finally get a chance to learn how to make her favourite dishes. While Lily wasn't the biggest fan of shepherd's pie, and didn't mind Mr. Barnaby taking the leftovers home with him, she was delighted to master the tricky treacle tart her mother always made when she came home from Hogwarts.

On a day like this particular warm afternoon, however, Lily was itching for something more to do than roll out some pastry dough. She was, after all, a sixteen-year-old witch, and not a bad one, at that. She gazed longingly at the second drawer of her nightstand, which held her wand during the summer, but reminded herself immediately of the warning she'd gotten just last year. She wasn't about to be expelled just because she was bored and felt like making her dresser run around the room.

Lily heaved another sigh, briefly considering turning on the sprinklers and taking a run through them to cool down, when a sharp rapping came at her window. To her great surprise, perched on her windowsill was an owl, and not just any owl.

It was a Great-Horned owl, one she recognized immediately as James Potter's. After a moment's hesitation, she rushed to the window and let her in.

"What brings you here, Athena?" Lily murmured curiously, stroking the large owl before accepting the scroll clutched in her claw. She got out a bowl and filled it with water for Athena before reading the letter. After all, it wasn't her fault she belonged to an insufferable prat.

To Lily's great surprise, the handwriting was not the messy scrawl she'd come to expect on about a dozen Valentines each year, but a long, looping script that could belong only to one Marlene Wright.

_Darling Lily,_

_My deepest apologies for the nasty shock it must've been to find James' owl rapping on your window. You must be thinking a whole slew of things that are completely untrue, so I'll just put your agonized soul to rest: no, I'm not involved with your one and only -_

Here, Lily let out a rather unladylike snort of derision.

_-we've simply run into one another in Ibiza. Would you believe that he and his family will be here the whole time we are? Mother is delighted, for entirely nefarious reasons, as you might imagine. I told her she ought to marry James herself, if she likes him so much, and I SWEAR ON MERLIN'S BEARD she considered it for a moment. _

Despite herself, Lily had to laugh. Poor Marlene had been listening to her mother extolling James' virtues and his flawless pedigree since they'd started at Hogwarts.

_She's quite taken with Sirius as well, who by the way is also here. It seems like there was some drama with his family at the start of summer -not really surprising though, is it, given their reputation? He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's moved in indefinitely with the Potters. From what I can see, Adelaide (that's James' mum) loves him like her own, so if he and Potter weren't like brothers already they might as well be now. I know you'll never believe it but they're not so bad when they're away from school and have an outlet for their boredom. There's so much magic going on at this resort that we can pretty much get away with anything. It helps that James and Sirius are rather practiced in this sort of thing. Whatever their other numerous deficiencies, they know their stuff. Yesterday, they made a to-scale replica of Hogwarts out of sand, which might not seem that difficult to you, Miss Prefect, except the staircases were moving! Moving! Even Father was impressed, and you know how he is about underage magic. The model of the girls' dormitory was a bit too close for comfort, though…how would they know that my canopy is usually wide open and you keep yours shut? Or that Carolyn's clothes are always on the floor…_

Lily had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it sounded like some high-level Transfiguration and Charms work. But then, she'd always known Potter and Black were talented wizards capable of incredible magic well beyond their training. If only they used it more often for things like Hogwarts sandcastles, rather than to cause trouble and lose Gryffindor House points. To her annoyance, Lily could imagine exactly what Potter would say, were he present. That's why we have perfect, goody-two shoes Prefects like you, Evans. To get those precious points back! Then he and Black would laugh, and run off to do something even worse.

_In any case, I'm writing to extend another invitation for you to come join us, if only to canoodle with your biggest admirer. Well, admirers in the plural, I suppose. Henry has asked after you for the fourth time this week. Yesterday, his only sister tripped over her beach towel and he laughed. Laughed. His own bloody sister. I could have twisted my ankle, but no. Instead it's, "How's Lily holding up in Cokeworth?" "Is Lily going to come?" "Why haven't you invited Lily?"_

_Well, what are you going to do? With my (seventh?) invitation, here's hoping you'll be somehow swayed by the less attractive of the Wright siblings. (If you actually come though, you are expected to completely ignore him and crush his feelings, rather than pull that nice, sweet thing you always do.)_

Lily smiled at the thought of Marlene's fourteen-year-old brother, who was incredibly eager and helpful whenever she'd visited the Wrights. Henry was a nice boy, and she would never give him the cold shoulder, whatever Marlene said.

_I'm missing you terribly, but you won't see me counting down the days until we leave paradise. You're not that pretty, Evans, whatever Potter and my idiot brother may think._

_If you want me to have Father set up the Floo for you, reply ASAP._

_If you want to stay home and do nothing, reply ASAP._

_All the best,_

_Marley xx_

The paper was looked as if it had nearly been torn at the bottom. There was a postscript, but it was so heavily crossed out and smudged that Lily could barely make it out. Clearly, there had been a scuffle of some kind. The handwriting was not Marlene's, but much neater than anything she'd seen from Potter. She concluded with some amusement that it must have been Black.

_P.S. James sends his eternal admiration and undying love -Lily, did you know he whispers your name in his sleep?_

Lily wondered for the briefest moment whether it could be true, then dismissed the thought immediately. Of course not, she was being silly. They were just boys having a laugh, as usual.

Marlene's letter had significantly cheered Lily, though of course she wouldn't be going anywhere, least of all Spain. She didn't feel right going to a lavish resort in Ibiza when her parents were working so hard to make ends meet at home, especially with Petunia's hefty typing course tuition. The Wrights were very well off, so of course Marlene would not expect Lily to pay, but nonetheless she'd never been quite comfortable with charity. It was bad enough that she'd bought Lily an expensive set of dress robes for Christmas, a gift she could never hope to match.

No, sun tanning in Spain was not in the cards for her this summer. Instead, Lily rifled through her desk and found some spare parchment and a quill, before sitting down to write.

_Dear Marley,_

_I admit I was startled to see Athena on my windowsill, but then again the appearance of Potter's owl will never disturb me as much as his own._

_Ibiza sounds amazing, if only because I'm itching to take my wand out and I can't even place a Cooling Charm on the house. It's ridiculous, especially because Cokeworth has never been this warm in July. The world's conspiring against me, it seems._

_It's too bad your mum's got you down, but the prospect of her getting Potter out of my hair is too wonderful for me to truly pity you. If they got together, do you suppose that would make Black your Uncle? The Hogwarts sandcastle sounds pretty cool, though it's a pity Potter and Black can't seem to use their talent for any good in the real castle._

_Tell Henry that as much as I'd love to come see him, unfortunately I won't be joining you. I have two long-time fans at home whom I love deeply, and I can't justify leaving them behind for a couple of schoolboys._

_I miss you, and I personally can't wait for term to start again so I can see you and the girls again._

_Lots of love,_  
_Lily_

_P.S. Tell Potter -_

Lily hesitated. What could she possibly say to him that he wouldn't twist to his own agenda? "Too shy to tell me yourself, eh Evans?" "A new nickname? Don't get too mushy here, darling, Black is reading, too." She had learned by now not to engage with him, or with Black, for that matter. It made things much simpler. She hastily crossed out her postscript, and handed the message to Athena. She stroked the owl thoughtfully, and in turn, Athena nipped fondly at her fingers before jumping to her window ledge and taking flight. Lily watched her grey form fade slowly into a small dot, then nothing, as she made her way to Spain, where no doubt a certain messy-haired boy was getting up to all sorts of trouble.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! Finals are brutal, but with some luck, I'll get Chapter Three to you next week.

All the best,  
Evangeline


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